Blue Flames and June Evenings
by opal star
Summary: Malfoys and Potters. Second generation. No love, no tension, no hatred... just nothing. The two children are forced together because of the world their parents have created. A very short gen. fic.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...I just live in it. **

**Authors Note: Just a little bit of gen. goodness. Slightly like _Moths in the Thunder_ as it's just something I wrote to shift some writers block. **

****

_And so it is just like you said it would be  
Life goes easy on me  
most of the time  
And so it is the shorter story  
No love, no glory  
No hero in her sky _

Damien Rice, The Blowers Daughter

She exhaled slowly, stared at the cigarette pensively for a second, then flicked it elegantly into the darkness beyond the light with a fluid motion. He got the distinct feeling that this wasn't the first time she had been locked out of the school. As for himself, he just shifted his position, wincing as the blood returned to various parts of his body painfully. She just watched him.

"So what do you wanna do, Malfoy?"

Paul stared straight ahead, remaining silent. Probably the best option to take. Rose sighed dramatically and started pulling her hair back into a ponytail. He remained still, wriggling only his toes to keep the cold at bay, wondering distractedly whether it was June or really November…

"You know," she said evenly, looking at him intently, "You're very dull sometimes."

"Sometimes? When have you ever been in my company before?"

She grinned childishly; she'd got him to speak, and he was reminded suddenly that she was quite a bit younger than her. Two school years between them. Not that she looked it… Not that she acted it. She looked like she could leave school now and get herself into any job she wanted whereas he doubted he'd changed much since he was fourteen.

"Well, I thought I might as well fill the time in. You're hardly volunteering a lot of conversational substance,"

He wasn't sure what to say to this. Placing the tepid lantern in the middle of them, he sat down on the step, using the light as a barrier. "I thought this was all sorted out years ago,"

This intrigued her enough to pull her a little out of her apathy. Paul hid a grin as she pulled herself off her elbows and into a proper seating position. "Sorted what out?"

"I'm a Malfoy, you're a Potter. We should be tearing each other to shreds,"

Rose looked a little put out and returned to the original position. "I'm not in the mood, your brother makes up enough for that. And anyway, I was expecting something a little more dramatic than that."

"Like what?" he snapped.

Her face cracked into a twisted smile. "_I dunno_. You're suppressed and therefore heightened attraction to me?"

He snorted.

"Well," she declared, appearing not in the least bit perturbed or embarrassed, fiddling around in her cloak for something, "The offer's there if you want it - for future reference,"

"I'll bear that in mind,"

But it fell on deaf ears. Finally, she found what she was looking for. An opened pack of cigarettes with three still remaining. She offered him one after a second's deliberation.

"How old are you?" he asked scornfully, bordering on the point of a sneer, declining his part of the proffer, "Twelve? And you're smoking?"

She shrugged and sighed. "Sixteen. I'm not some punk first year. Could leave school if I was a Muggle… I suppose…"

After that though she cut herself off and struck a match. He watched, slightly intrigued and saw she looked actually like all the other _rebels_ smoking behind the greenhouses – no coughing or streaming eyes. And she was sixteen.

So she wasn't _that_ much younger than him.

But he got the idea that there was something that he didn't quite understand with that statement so he said nothing for a while and saw her crunch the blackened match on the steps before discarding it like the other stub two minutes earlier. He wondered what Flin, who the same age as Rose, would say if he could see him now, being almost friendly to the _enemy_. He dreaded what his father would say.

Something was niggling in the back of his mind.

"So why would I have heightened attractions to you?"

Rose laughed croakily, which gave way to a short coughing fit. "Because," she managed to rasp out eventually, "That's how it works."

He frowned so she, after rolling her eyes, explained further.

"Right – we have a lustful affair in school but are frightfully separated until we meet later in life and are forced to spend large amounts of time alone with each other –" She took a breath and continued – "The affair begins again, even more desirous because it's _bad_. Then love follows, marriage, kids and our father's will be forced to be civil and our families will finally unite and blah blah blah…"

Paul let it all sink in then after a moment said, "You've thought all his through?"

Now it was her turn to snort. "Of course not. There are plenty of stupid girls in my dorm to do that. I'm the only one that sees it would end up like Romeo and Juliet… or a messy divorce."

_Romeo and Juliet? She's cracked… officially now… _

"Why not Flin, he's your age,"

This time she actually laughed. "Nope. You're the pretty one in the family."

He leaned back, feeling a grin picking up at the sides of his mouth. She watched him shrewdly with those dark eyes.

"Want to give it a go?"

Nothing on her face changed, you would have thought she was asked this all the time; she merely took a drag, looked him up and down and exhaled smoothly. "Maybe later."

The moment was ruined by him getting a whiff of the smoke and spluttering. Finally he gained some control of his throat.

"Just as well. Kissing someone after a fag isn't the most pleasant of experiences."

Rose tried to look offended, but eventually just shrugged.

"Not if you haven't had one yourself-" she offered him one again. He declined again. "- Ever it seems."

Biting back the various comments that were fighting to get out, he shrugged, keeping the fact he though they were disgusting, hatful things wisely to himself.

At this she smiled. He clenched his teeth and stared out into the darkness. This was the last time he went on late night walks. No matter how badly he couldn't sleep, he would stay _inside_, and _away _from Rose Potter. Paul glanced up at the school, the walls rising sharply above him in a twisting silhouette of stone. There were very few lights on but he didn't know why he was worrying. It wasn't as if his brother could look out of a window in the deep recesses of the dungeons.

When he looked back at her, Rose was closer and looking at him with those dark eyes. He wished she would stay where she was before.

"You think you'll be in trouble with that brother of yours? You're lucky. At least you have a decent height difference between you. I have millions of them looking out for me."

Paul did a quick bit of maths in his head. "You only have two at school."

She shrugged. "They make up for it."

After that they sat in silence for a few minutes. The wind whistled along the tree with anything but the warmth of summer. He gathered his cloak around him, hunching over and staring doggedly ahead. Rose seemed immune to the chill. When he mentioned this she just looked at him strangely then produced a jar with a flickering, beautifully warm, blue flame.

With a grin she held it just out of his reach.

"Say please."

Now if there was anything that he father had taught him, it was only to say please to someone that would say the same to you. So in _his_ case, no one. But before Paul got onto his knees and grovelled, she silently moved the lantern to the step below and placed the jar between them. He shuffled closer to her.

"One of my Dad's friends used to do this when they were at school."

"Oh."

Going into their parents' school lives wasn't something he was keen on. He had listened to his father for hours, listening and asking about everything. Then something changed. For one he didn't have time, and, something that he didn't realise for years, almost everyone he talked about, mentioned and thought about was dead. Killed. Or as good as.

Rose seemed oblivious and sniffed quietly.

"They didn't lock the doors at night then, as well."


End file.
